


Old Habits

by demalore



Category: Wander Over Yonder
Genre: M/M, except its not an au its canon guys, prince peepers au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2016-08-15
Packaged: 2018-08-08 19:31:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7770235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demalore/pseuds/demalore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Working for Lord Hater can take some getting used to.  The watchdogs weren't always the super capable, infallible evil army they are today.</p>
<p>Part of the <a href="http://princepeepers.tumblr.com/">Prince Peepers AU</a>.  <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/7449397/chapters/16926172">Here's</a> the first fic I did for it, but it's pretty self explanatory.  This is something of a sequel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was the little things that bothered Lord Hater the most.  Not the ‘little things’ that were the soldiers themselves (which Peepers had told him to call “watchdogs”), but the little things that they did when Peepers was around.  Sure, the watchdogs paid Lord Hater a more than reasonable amount of respect: standing at attention whenever he walked by, addressing him as “Sir” with their tiny chests puffed out, and even letting him cut to the front of the lines at the food court.

But if the watchdogs treated Lord Hater like a king, they treated Peepers like a god.

Lord Hater couldn’t catch sight of Peepers without at least a dozen watchdogs trailing behind him, abandoning their duties to instead attend to their smaller king’s every whim.  They brought him food at all hours of the day, whether he was hungry or not.  At one point, the watchdogs produced a portable bed, complete with a canopy and golden tassels, on which to carry Peepers throughout the Skullship.

Each of these small luxuries that the watchdogs bestowed on Peepers was another drop of water in Lord Hater’s writhing sea of hatred.  This hatred was usually directed at whatever stupid planet they were conquering that day, but with each little luxury Peepers got, Lord Hater grew to despise his second-in-command more than everything else in the galaxy.

The breaking point arrived at one of their regularly scheduled meetings; not the ideal time for the watchdogs to fawn over their royal highness, but they found a way.  Hater had been able to ignore plenty of other transgressions, but he simply couldn’t stand having to look  _ up _ at Peepers.

“Do you  _ really _ need  _ that _ many pillows on your chair, Peepers?!?” he shouted, stray electricity leaving black handprints on the table.

Peepers, whose attention had previously been focused on staying balanced atop the high stack of pillows, blinked at Hater.  He was used to his overlord’s tantrums by now, and knew that although he could be set off by the tiniest things, a stack of pillows wasn’t one of them.  “Problem, Sir?”

“Problem?  Of  _ course _ there’s a problem!” Lord Hater said exasperatedly, waving his arms at the small crowd of watchdogs standing around Peepers’ chair.

Peepers looked down at the watchdogs, then at Hater’s chair.  Something visibly clicked in his mind, and he sat up a bit straighter.

“Of course, Sir, I apologize,” he said briskly, clapping his hands to send the watchdogs away, leaving only him and Hater in the meeting room.  Peepers hopped down from his luxuriously lofty perch and gathered up the pillows.

Lord Hater was surprised.  That was way easier than he had expected.  Maybe he  _ had _ blown this whole thing out of-

The watchdogs returned, each bearing a fresh stack of pillows.  Peepers joined them in gathering around Lord Hater’s chair, waiting patiently for him to move.

“If you wanted pillows on your chair, you only had to  _ ask _ , Sir,” Peepers chided gently.

Hater’s lightning flared up again, singeing the delicate pillows and scaring the watchdogs out of the room.  Peepers stood his ground, but by the way his eye darted to the door, he was beginning to doubt his decision to stay.

“ _ Pillows?   _ You think I want  _ pillows?”  _ Lord Hater shouted, snatching one of the offending items off the ground and electrocuting it to ash.

Peepers backed up to the wall, holding a lacy throw pillow to his chest.  “N-no?..” he guessed meekly.

“That’s right!” Lord Hater boomed, marching toward his trembling commander.  “What I  _ want _ is for all this stupid royal stuff to stop!  You work for  _ me _ , and  _ I _ should be the one getting attention and snacks and pillows!”

“But you just said you didn’t-” Peepers stopped himself.  This wasn’t one of those rare occasions where Lord Hater could be reasoned with.  It was easy to forget at times that Lord Hater really was an evil villain, but now, with the electric skeleton towering over him, latent lightning casting jagged shadows over his scowling face, Peepers couldn’t help but remember.

“All right, Sir, understood!” Peepers squeaked, gathering the courage to raise his arm into a weak salute.  “I-I’ll let the watchdogs know right away!”

Lord Hater relaxed a little, giving Peepers the opportunity to run out of the room.  Satisfied with how he had handled that little problem--loudly and scarily, just like a real evil ruler--Lord Hater sank back into his pillowless chair, arms crossed behind his head, waiting for the pampering to start.


	2. Chapter 2

Peepers rushed to solve this problem, which he had decided was a major one no matter how ridiculous it seemed to him.  He understood all too well why the watchdogs didn’t behave as warmly toward Hater as they did toward him.  The Eyevans were naturally a friendly and loving people, much to Peepers’ disgust, and this niceness carried over to how they treated their rulers. Eyevan royalty had always been shown the greatest respect and kindness, to a degree that Peepers had always felt was smothering.

However, being a frightening mass of bones and electricity put a damper on things.  Even as Hater’s second-in-command (and, as Peepers never ceased to remind himself,  _ husband _ ), Peepers was more than a little wary of him.  Hater was unpredictable, powerful, and to put it shortly,  _ huge. _

Ideally, Peepers would’ve taken his time with this endeavor: gradually easing the watchdogs into becoming more comfortable around Lord Hater, perhaps through casual social events with balloons and snacks.  There was no time for a full-blown plan, though, as Lord Hater had never been the ‘gradual’ type.  The best Peepers could do was send out a shipwide memo instructing the watchdogs to treat Hater just like they treated him.

The watchdogs took this order better than might be expected.  They started slowly, replacing their salutes with bows, a few daring to bring Hater sodas.  Once these adventurous watchdogs survived their encounters with Lord Hater unelectrocuted, word spread quickly that Lord Hater really wasn’t that scary.  In fact, he seemed much more receptive to their small acts of kindness than Peepers had ever been.  The watchdogs were all too happy to oblige.

Peepers did note that fewer and fewer watchdogs followed him around now, and figured that his small push had been enough to do the job.  As long as Hater was being taken care off, this whole problem would blow right over.

As he walked to his next meeting with Hater, Peepers was glad to realize that he was doing so completely alone.  No one was pestering him about grooming his eyelashes, or offering him fruity drinks, or trying to carry him even though he  _ insisted _ that they  _ put him down this instant _ .  Peepers stood up a little straighter, feeling much more like a capable commander than a pitiful prince.

Peepers was normally the first to arrive at the meetings, but today it seemed that the watchdogs had beat him to it.  The room was nearly filled with chattering watchdogs, most of them huddled around the back of the room, where Lord Hater usually sat.  There were so many watchdogs that they were stacked on top of each other into a large pile.  A moving, shouting pile with a yellow glove sticking out of it. 

A Lord-Hater-sized pile.

Peepers ran to pull Lord Hater free of the overaffectionate soldiers.  With one foot braced against the mass of watchdogs, Peepers pulled on Lord Hater’s flailing hand, wrenching him free of the mob.

Lord Hater took in a deep breath, but the watchdogs were back on him before he could let it out.  Dozens of hands pulled on his cloak, anchoring him to the meeting room.  With Lord Hater immobilized, a few overzealous watchdogs climbed right onto him.  The watchdogs behaved like a single entity, a many-eyed amoeba slowly engulfing Lord Hater.  Their eager voices blended together, although Peepers could pick out a few familiar phrases.

“Back rub, Your Majesty?”

“Anything to drink, Your Majesty?”

“Want us to try carrying you again, Your Majesty?”

The second time Peepers pulled Lord Hater free, he scooped the skeleton into his arms and ran, not daring to stop until they were safe in Lord Hater’s bedroom, where even the watchdogs knew better than to trespass.

Peepers collapsed on the way to the bed, half-dropping Lord Hater onto the floor.  Lord Hater didn’t seem to notice, curling into the fetal position and rocking gently on the carpet.

Peepers waited to be yelled at, but Lord Hater was silent.  “S-sir?”

“Th-there’s too many of them..” Lord Hater murmured breathlessly, his eyes wide.  “All trying to be helpful, do stuff for me, give me  _ hugs… _ ”

This last word was enough to rouse Lord Hater from his state of shock.  With a hint of embarrassment, Lord Hater rose back to his feet, glaring down at Peepers.

“Peepers, is that your idea of ‘fixing the problem’?” he shouted.  “They could’ve  _ killed _ me!”

“Oh, they’re not that bad!” Peepers chuckled nervously.  “A little much sometimes, but their intentions are-”

“Take control of your army, Peepers!” Lord Hater ordered.  “No more ‘nice’ stuff!  They’re my evil minions and they need to start acting like it!”

Peepers bit back a comment about Lord Hater’s habit of contradicting himself, settling for a silent nod.  “Understood, sir!  One evil army, coming up!”


	3. Chapter 3

“My King, what exactly are we, uh, doing here?”

“Training seminar,” Peepers addressed the crowd of watchdogs as he paced across the stage.  “You’ve got the  _ look _ of an evil army, now we just need the  _ attitude. _  You’ve got to start acting in a way that properly befits the Hater Empire.”

One watchdog in the crowd flapped his hand in the air.  “How do we do that, My Liege?”

“Well, the first step is to stop calling me ‘Liege’ and ‘King’ and things like that.  ‘Commander’ is fine.”

A confused muttering fell over the crowd.  The first watchdog spoke up again, “But...you  _ are _ a king.”

Peepers sighed, “Yes, thank you, I’m aware of that, and as your king, I’m ordering you to stop calling me king.”

“What about ‘Your Majesty’?”

“No, not ‘Your Majesty’ either.  Like I said before, just call me ‘Commander’.”

“Should we call King Lord Hater ‘Commander’, too?”

“No, you call him ‘Lord Hater’!”

The watchdogs’ eyes squinted as they tried to process this.  “So, if you’re ‘Commander’, and he’s ‘Lord Hater’, who’s the king?”

“No one, you don’t need to call  _ anyone _ ‘king’!”

“There’s no king?” one watchdog shouted excitedly.  “That means no rules! Anarchy!”

The watchdogs quickly dissolved into a rambunctious panic, but settled down after Peepers blew loudly on his whistle.  He had thought that bringing such a rudimentary training device was a little embarrassing, but apparently it was necessary.  They weren’t even a minute in and the watchdogs were close to rioting.

“Ok, forget all that,” Peepers said with a wave of his hands.  “Just treat Lord Hater like your leader, and treat me like a normal person.  Easy enough?”

“Wait, how do we treat you like a normal person?”

“Just, I don’t know, don’t be all nice and respectful and stuff, just do-”

“You’re short!” a watchdog in the back shouted over Peepers.

Peepers’ eye flushed red, unsure what to make of the insult until he realized that he had--in a backwards logic kind of way--asked for it.  “N-no, that not at all what I-”

“Yeah, and your voice is funny!” another watchdog joined in, enjoying it a little too much.

Taking their cue from the first two, the rest of the watchdogs began hurling whatever insults they could think of.  Peepers could only stammer incoherently as the insults grew louder and less sensical.  One watchog was boldly complaining that Peepers’ eye was too red when the commander finally composed himself enough to use the whistle again.

The watchdogs immediately grew silent, the only noise being Peepers’ infuriated breathing. He looked at the watchdogs, who all looked eagerly back at him.  The little morons were  _ enjoying _ this, weren’t they? A thick hopelessness stirred in Peepers’ stomach.

“Okay, let’s try this one more time…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...and here we have commander that looks like a king commander, the commander that looks like a king


	4. Chapter 4

A whole week of military training had to be rescheduled to accommodate Peepers’ next few ‘special’ training sessions, but his patience paid off in the end.  The watchdogs had mostly shed their subservient ways, treating Peepers like the commander he had always dreamed of being and Lord Hater like the evil overlord he had always been (at least in his own mind).  If any more hugging was going on, it was done in private, far away from Hater and Peepers.

Hater was pleased with the results of Peepers’ training, although he’d never admit to it.  The watchdogs were respectful to him, but from a safe distance.  Truthfully, their behavior really wasn’t all that different than it had been before this whole mess, but Lord Hater prided himself knowing that this time it had been  _ his _ decision.

At their third meeting that week, Hater noted that Peepers arrived alone, unburdened by fancy snacks or multicolored robes.  Just Peepers, wearing his everyday uniform, his only mark of status being his custom-made helmet with a larger lightning bolt.

Hater leaned smugly back in his chair.  ‘No more dumb watchdogs to pamper him,  _ that’ll  _ show Peepers’ _ , _ he thought, ignoring Peepers’ presentation like he usually did.  ‘ _ I’m _ the greatest in the galaxy, not  _ him _ .’  He half-expected Peepers to get upset, or show  _ some _ sign that he missed being waited on, but Peepers seemed perfectly content.  He carried on his presentation as if he didn't even notice the lack of attention. 

Hater’s mood sank.  Even if things had spun out of control in the end, he had to admit that he had enjoyed the watchdogs’ attention.  It was sort of nice to be followed around by people who wanted to do stuff for you, like being a rock star with a bunch of adoring fans (which Lord Hater totally also was, by the way).  The watchdogs still cheered at his rallies, and a few even asked for autographs when he stopped by the food court, and Hater didn’t mind that at all.  With Peepers, though, they just sorta...ignored him.

Hater caught himself staring at the commander, but Peepers was too absorbed in his presentation to notice.  The more Hater thought about it, the weirder it seemed.  Peepers had been a prince for, like,  _ ever _ , and now he was acting like a regular guy.  Well, as regular as a tiny eyeball with a laughably large helmet could be, but still.

“Question, sir?” Peepers prompted, meeting Hater’s stare for the first time.  Hater jumped in his seat, and saw that everyone else had already left the room.  The screen was black, Peepers’ presentation long over.

Instead of thinking of a perfect excuse like he always did, Hater blurted out, “Don’t you  _ miss _ it?”

Peepers’ annoyed half-lidded glare shifted to a look of surprise.  He had expected another one of Hater’s awful excuses, but this was new.  “Miss what, Sir?”

“You know, the servants, the snacks, all that royal junk!”

Peepers chuckled dryly.  “No, not at all.”

“B-b-but!--” Hater babbled, the thoughts that had been stewing in his mind all wrestling to get out at once.  “But it’s  _ nice _ , the attention and stuff!  Didn’t you  _ like _ it?”

“Not really,” Peepers sighed irritably, rigidly adjusting the papers in his hands, although he didn’t need them at all now.  “Look, if there’s a problem, just-”

“But you were a  _ prince! _ ” Hater shouted insistently.  “Why would you-” his raised voice sank like a stone.  “Why would you ever want to do  _ this _ stuff?”  Hater had always thought that Peepers was smart, but he had to be pretty dumb to prefer working for someone else over ruling an entire flarpin’ planet, right?

“Sir, I  _ chose _ to leave, remember?” Peepers said, more bewildered than angry. Where was all  _ this  _ coming from? Sometimes Lord Hater was impossible to deal with. Scratch that,  _ all _ the time, but…

“I specifically asked to come with you. Don't tell me you've forgotten.”

“Of course not,” Hater scoffed. He remembered every detail of their arrangement, as well as the rest of that fateful evening's events. “I just...I dunno, thought you were crazy or something.”

“Sir, I  _ hated  _ it there,” Peepers groaned, reflexively rubbing the side of his eye to expel the ghost of headaches past. “I would've done  _ anything _ to leave. Quite frankly, this is more than I had ever hoped for,” he said with a flat laugh.

“Well that's stupid,” Hater grumbled. “Who in their right mind would wanna do  _ your _ job?”  Peepers had taken care of all the boring parts of being a villain from day one; Hater was the one who got to do all the  _ fun _ stuff. 

“You might not believe me, Sir, but I really do like it here,” Peepers shrugged, reorganizing his papers for the third time. “Much more than my home planet.”

Hater looked intently at Peepers, still searching for the discontent he knew Peepers had to be hiding. “So...you  _ don't  _ miss being a prince?”

Peepers met Hater’s gaze. He knew what Hater wanted him to say, but, although it was something he’d always taken care to avoid, he’d have to disappoint him. 

“Not a bit.”


	5. Chapter 5

“Sir, you  _ know _ I said-”

“This is an order, Peepers,” Hater said, pressing the pile of clothing into Peepers’ arms. Peepers had woken up only a minute ago, and sleepily accepted the clothing without really seeing what it was. 

“I...could you just explain-”

“Look, your planet was the first one I conquered, right? So if I lose it, I lose all my other planets, right?”

_ Wrong,  _ Peepers wanted to say, but didn't, instead staying quiet to let Hater finish his convoluted argument. 

“And in order to keep it, I have to be king, which means  _ you _ have to be king.”

“...Yeah?”

“So I need to make sure you don't forget that!  _ Obviously _ , Peepers, would you just  _ think _ for once!”

Whatever this was, it’d be easier if Peepers just went along with it. “Understood, Sir.  Should I, then...do...what, exactly?”

“Just come out when you're ready!” Hater said excitedly. He practically skipped out of Peepers’ room. “And if I see you wearing your regular uniform today, you're fired!”

Peepers didn't think the threat was serious, but it was hard to tell with Hater. Blinking away the sleep-dust from his eye, Peepers took a good look at the clothes Hater had given him. 

It was one of his old outfits, complete with epaulets and cape. The clothes were bundled around something hard and narrow--his crown, Peepers assumed. How had Hater gotten ahold of this? Peepers had brought only the wedding dress he was wearing when he first ran off with Hater, and he thought he had thrown the crown away.

The outfit felt stuffy at first, but Peepers had to admit that there was something comfortable about how familiar it was. He still prefered his simplistic uniform, but an old sense of importance came back to him as he flung the cape onto his shoulders. 

He balanced the crown atop his head. This,  _ this _ he had missed. His helmet was a close substitute, but not quite the same.

“Good morning, Your Majesty!” countless watchdogs greeted Peepers as he stepped out of his bedroom. Peepers took in a strained breath, trying not to think of how this could unravel all of his excruciating training sessions, and let it out. 

Lord Hater led him to the dining room, where a lavish breakfast had been laid out. He allowed Peepers to sit in his chair and stared him down until he obediently started eating. Peepers assumed that all of the food was meant for him, but waved Hater into the seat next to him after hearing his leader’s stomach growling. Hater didn't object. 

Next, Lord Hater let Peepers sit on his throne. It was far too big for Peepers, but everyone pretended not to notice. Peepers insisted that he was fine, but eventually gave in to Hater’s repeated offers to get him some pillows. 

“You're sure this is okay?” Peepers murmured, sitting cautiously on the extremely cushioned throne. 

“Of course,” Hater said with forced formality. “You're royalty, and royal people get to do whatever they want, right?”

“I guess so,” Peepers agreed, although that was far from the truth. 

“So...is there anything else you want?”

What Peepers really wanted was to get back to work. This day of being treated like royalty would put them weeks behind schedule, but Hater wouldn't see that as a good enough excuse to call this thing off. Peepers could see that Hater had put a lot of effort into this, and part of him didn’t want to ruin it. 

A small smile broke onto Peepers’ face. He might as well make the best of this situation. 

“I suppose...if this is all to remember that you're king, and that's because we’re married...we should probably remember the wedding, right?”

“I... _ guess _ so,” Hater answered uncertainly. 

“ _ Do _ you...remember it?”

“I remember that stupid minister forgetting the  _ most important part _ , yeah,” Hater grumbled, crossing his arms and glaring across the room. 

The white of Peepers’ eye began darkening to the color of his iris. “R-right, the most important part,” he gulped. “Why don't we, ah, do that again? So we don't forget and..and all that.  Like you said”

Hater looked blankly at Peepers. “Is that an order?” he asked, keeping his voice steady. 

“Yes, that’s an order,” Peepers almost shouted, surprised by the authority that a simple change of clothes had brought back to his voice. 

One corner of Lord Hater’s mouth twitched. “Understood, Your Majesty.”

Hater’s head crashed into Peepers’ without warning, barely giving Peepers enough time to close his eye. Peepers was pressed back into the throne, his hands grasping at the only holds they could find, which in this case were Hater’s lightning-bolt-shaped horns.  With these for support, Peepers leaned into Hater’s frightfully cold face, aware of how hot his own face was. His soft eyelid squished against Hater’s rigid lips, his hands tightening around Hater’s horns.

Forget the crown.  _ This _ is what he had missed most of all. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, there's art for this now!!! Treat yourself and check out what [@lesbianmonarch](http://lesbianmonarch.tumblr.com/) [drew](http://princepeepers.tumblr.com/post/149042136345/gayroyaltydraws-a-few-scattered-doodles-from)!  
> [Here's](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7908856) the next fic I wrote for this au (but it takes place before this one)


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